The Art Of Corruption ~ A BBC Sherlock Fanfiction {Book III}

Chapter 23- Intimidation

Millie's POV

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It's late afternoon when Emily finally calls back. 

I'm helping Sherlock sort through the dusty shelving units that line either side of the mantlepiece; previously, they have been a source of chaos and disorder, occasionally spewing out a battered encyclopedia or the glass shell of a lightbulb. John insisted that Sherlock should make an attempt at tidying it, and I took pity on him- only to be ensnared in a humid afternoon's worth of work. John's been skyping Mary for almost two hours now, which has undoubtedly contributed to Sherlock's black mood. 

So, it's quite a relief when my phone begins to ring.

I answer it, and sit back against the wall, glad to have a brief moment of reprieve.

"Emily?"

"Hi. Sorry I took so long to get back to you."

"It's fine. Where are you now?"

"My apartment."

"Has the work load eased off a bit?" I ask, carefully, because I am fully aware that "work" for Emily probably doesn't conform to legal standards. There's a small pause on the other end of the line. Then a sigh:

"No. My client list is building up, and I decided now is the time to deal with it."

"I see. Do you want to come over at some point? I could use the company," I say, looking over at Sherlock, who's scowling fiercely at the mess around him.

"Sorry...I really can't afford to take a break right now. This is the kind of stuff that requires twelve hour dedication."

 "Why don't we drop by? It will give us the chance to-"

"No."

I can hear her collecting herself on the other end of the line.

"I mean... no, you don't have to go out of your way to do that. I'm fine."

"It's nothing, really-"

"Millie, listen to me. Don't come round. I'll...come over to Baker Street tomorrow, ok?"

"Ok...?"

"Good. I'll see you then, yeah?"

"Yes. Emily, are you sure you're-"

I realise that I'm speaking to an empty line. Confused, I pocket my phone, and think over the short conversation. There was a sense of underlying urgency in her voice. Panic. And that makes me distinctly uneasy. 

But then there's a resounding thump next to me, and I look over to see Sherlock, surrounded by an avalanche of collapsed books and frames. I push our strange conversation to the back of my mind, and get up to help him out.

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Emily's POV

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I cancel the call, sitting back against the rough wood of the bench. I'm in the park, that overlooks my apartment complex. His apartment complex.

It's late afternoon, now. Moriarty turned up in the early hours of this morning, and I left soon after his unannounced arrival. I have to return, at some point, but I'm dragging it out for as long as possible. I've been in this park for the duration of the day. It's so hot, the grass has been bleached a starchy yellow, and my throat is equally parched. I've stayed in this same spot for hours, just tracing the outline of my phone, and watching the building in front of me.